


a clear black night, a clear white moon

by littleblacksubmarine



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Drinking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, House Party, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:53:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21975409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleblacksubmarine/pseuds/littleblacksubmarine
Summary: Rafael and Sonny meet at Sonny's eighteenth birthday party as Rafael is about to leave for Harvard.
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 59
Collections: Barisi Holiday Exchange 2019





	a clear black night, a clear white moon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mforpaul](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mforpaul/gifts).



As the train clattered onward to Staten Island, it occurred to Rafael that this what Rita Calhoun might consider _slumming it_ \- a brief recess from the finer things in life that kept her insulated from those _lesser thans_ who might meet her on the campus of Harvard. Outwardly, Rafael himself certainly gave off the air of somebody who belonged on an Ivy League campus, borne of years of pretending against what was _going on at home_ , including well-worn socks with a mending stitch or two, or a year of school lunches supplied by a long-strained district budget.

The idea of barreling toward some sort of anonymously-hosted party that Rita had dragged him along to under the vague pretense of a friend-of-a-friend-of-a-sister made him agitated, if not ever so ill, and Rafael briefly considered the idea that he had little time for such frivolities as days of the calendar dissipated before the first day of the term of university.

"It’s a last fling, Rafi," Rita had said in what should've been an encouraging cadence, though he felt ill at the notion of boarding a train to leave his mother and _abuelita_ for promises of a lukewarm keg of beer and a series of Top 40 cassettes in a random person's garage. "You're only young once." Her reassurance was laughable, as he knew Rita had tacked a Harvard pennant in her walk-in closet at the end of eighth grade - motivating, and out of sight though scarcely out of mind.

Rafael didn't argue, and instead rode along. It would never hurt to get some fresh air and a mouth full of some type of cheap liquor to assuage his nerves against the part of him that felt like an impostor, coasting along on the sails of some scholarship he worried was borne out of pity.

He'd met Rita in his years in undergrad, the ones where he'd proven himself more than capable in a pre-law degree that essential meant nothing, if snooty graduate students he'd come into contact with were to be believed. Rita had a name-brand backpack and access to the beginnings of the internet outside of the campus library, and Rafael wasn’t sure whether to envy her or hate her. He'd ultimately settled on something in between - respect, but a grudging sense of it. They'd shifted into a friendship he quietly marveled over.

It was in this way that he'd let her coerce him onto the train to meet up with a few girls she'd met through a series of high school mock trial tournaments - _Alex-and-Casey - you'd like them, Rafi, they're humble_ \- who'd invited Rita to an anonymous house party outside the city. They sounded like a collective unit. Apprehension flared inside of Rafael. He'd been invited along to too many parties where Rita _fucking_ Calhoun knew anyone and everyone, in contrast to his own small social circle - so small it felt nonexistent, composed of close friends in the neighborhood compared to Rita's vast social circle of girls in fancy clothes and boys with manicured facial hair.

"You seem nervous," Rita mused, picking at her nails.

"Shut up," Rafael groused, knowing she'd chalk it up to a good-natured retort.

Rita rolled her eyes, rummaging in her extravagantly priced bag for a barely-used nail file. "Get used to it, Rafi. There are so many ponds where you'll be a fish out of water." The statement would've angered him if it hadn't been so accurate and alongside his thoughts.

"I've been to a house party before," he snapped, his voice sharp though Rita seemed nonplussed. "I'm surprised you'd even want to go."

Rita looked critically down at her nails as she thumbed at a stubborn ridge in the nail of her middle finger, filing it down and blowing away the dust. "I have a diverse social circle."

It couldn’t have been further from the truth unless Rita had claimed to be in the throes of poverty herself. Neither of them need remark on it, in any case.

"What's the occasion, anyhow?" Rafael asked, trying to remain casual in hopes of betraying the idea that he'd like to re-board the train as soon as he exited in hopes of returning home immediately, far from Rita's far-flung idea of a good time.

"Alex and Casey have a friend whose brother is turning eighteen today." Rita's tone was simple and matter of fact, though Rafael was immediately irked.

"Underage drinking. Fantastic."

Rita rolled her eyes. "I didn't think I'd brought an NYPD officer along," she said with an exasperated, arched eyebrow.

"You should read the laws," Rafael grumbled, knowing the follow up eye roll from Rita would be more than sufficient when it came to making him want to close his mouth. "This had better be the best party I've ever been to."

"Because I know you've been to so many parties," Rita countered, delicately glazing one fingertip with a clear nail polish after she'd repaired it with a file. She didn't add anything to the statement, knowing it was a bridge too far to point out that Rafael's hypervigilance at maintaining his scholarships had prevented him from stepping so much as a toe out of line in his pursuit of law school at Harvard after finishing his undergrad. "You're lucky you're cute."

Rafael made no move to argue, instead rubbing his hands against his thighs. The late summer heat was oppressive, and he had resigned himself to the idea that he'd be dewy with sweat upon arrival to the party, to say the least.

The train arrived all too soon, and Rita was all too adept at finding their way to the party. The address was scrawled on a borderline-crumpled paper in the palm of her hand, yet she looked perfectly composed as she hailed a cab to deliver them there. Rafael wondered what it would be like to one day feel competent in using anything other than the train and his own two feet. It made his stomach flip to know that one day he might be as capable as Rita in navigating something more than himself.

_Harvard_ , he reminded himself, all too aware of the implication of the two syllables upon the rest of his life. All he needed to do was make it through the rest of the dwindling, humid days of summer.

The house he and Rita arrived at was modest: a split level, with seemingly every light inside on and ablaze, and with a smattering of tiki torches visible in the backyard even from the curb.

"Jesus Christ," Rita muttered, though she made no further remark as she hoisted her handbag over her shoulder before advancing toward the front door. She rapped harshly on the door in a way that suggested the presence of a police officer - forceful, and with intent of investigation. Rafael immediately and inwardly blanched.

The door immediately creaked open, and a girl with straight, sleek blonde hair answered. Rita's face immediately glowed as the screen door thrust open.

"Alex!" Rita exclaimed, uncharacteristically enthusiastic.

"You made it," Alex countered without hesitation. "Thought you would've been too good for this scene." Rafael agreed with the sentiment, but Rita seemed to brush it aside as she embraced the blonde and the darker haired girl who'd sidled up alongside her when she'd answered the door. "Casey and I were dying to see if you'd show up."

Rita plastered on what Rafael recognized as her _authentic_ smile, and she leaned into the doorframe. "You know I can't resist a party," she said, voice languid and seductive, even to Rafael's admission. Her voice had always had a deep, sophisticated air to it, and Rafael knew he'd have to step up his own presence if he ever had the misfortune of coming up against her in future courtrooms or judges' chambers. "This is my friend Rafael," she added, almost as an afterthought, and both girls nodded politely in his direction.

Rafael stood still in the humidity of the outdoors, wishing to be anywhere but here but otherwise grateful that Rita had coaxed him out of a textbook or two. Alex dragged Rita in by the elbow, and Rafael followed without any idea of what else to do and what else might wait for him out on the front porch in unfamiliar territory.

"Angela's brother is a _fucking_ child," Casey slurred out, a lanky elbow cast around Alex's neck. "Their dad knows where to get a spare keg or two." Alex shushed her, brushing her lips against the rumpled hair at Casey's temple and playfully elbowing her in the ribs. Casey let out an annoyed, unregulated laugh. "Did I lie?"

"You know Rita's picky," Alex chided, pressing another chaste, affectionate kiss at Casey's temple and hugging her closely at the waist. The display made Rafael flush even though he had recently begun to acknowledge within himself that he felt little pull toward either woman, or any woman in general. "She's probably only here because she thought there might be a chance of a martini bar."

"Please," Rita scoffed, glancing around now that they'd been welcomed inside to the air conditioning. The living room and the nearby kitchen appeared swarmed with bodies - young people dressed in fashions he assumed Rita might classify as _last season_ , and with canned domestic brews in cans or an anonymous beer that was even more anonymous in red plastic cups.

"Enjoy yourself," Casey encouraged, slumping against Alex, already visibly tired despite the early hour, in large part due to what had no doubt filled her own plastic cup. "Carisis know how to fucking party."

Rafael made no move to clarify that he didn't know what a _Carisi_ was, let alone multiple.

He strode into the house, finding a keg tapped in the middle of the kitchen in a large plastic tub with ice circled around the metal canister. A few kids were circled around it, pumping out generously filled cups and dispersing them to the partygoers. Before he could even figure out if he wanted to partake, a young man with short, cropped dark hair and dark eyes had passed him one of the cups. Rafael knew enough to know that proper use of a keg wouldn't yield a huge, heady layer of foam on the top, but he also knew enough to know that to remark on it would be impolite.

Rita had already disappeared off somewhere else, and he suspected he could've found her by the trail of light laughter from whom he assumed was Alex or Casey. Now, he was left to his own devices. At least the beer was cold and plentiful, and after a few long sips, he felt more at ease with taking advantage of someone's father who clearly had never met a liquor law he wanted to follow.

"Never seen you before, " the young man by the keg said, snapping Rafael out of his fantasy about being _anywhere but here_. The look on his face betrayed no emotion, negative or otherwise.

"You wouldn't have," Rafael said, creeping discomfort slightly alleviated by cheap domestic beer. He took another sip to fill in a gap in conversation. "I'm here with a friend."

"I'm Mike," he supplied, putting his hand out for a shake.

"Rafael." Mike's handshake was firm, almost aggressively so, and Rafael successfully fought the urge to wince at the force of it.

He wondered for a moment if Mike was going to leave his side then, but he made no move to do so. Instead, Mike set to pumping himself out another cup of beer, this time with a little more finesse. Even the drink he took looked as confident as his handshake, and Rafael quietly envied people who didn't feel out of place at parties.

"Who's your friend?" Mike asked conversationally, gesturing around the room a little, though much of the crowd had dispersed from the kitchen and out onto the back porch.

"Rita Calhoun," Rafael said, wondering if he ought to be worried when a knowing smile creased Mike's face, even though it appeared good natured. "I take it you know Rita."

Mike let out a warm laugh, draining another inch or so from his red Solo cup. "Oh yes. Everyone knows Rita Calhoun," he said conspiratorially. Rafael felt no need to ask for clarification - everyone _did_ know Rita Calhoun, a fact that she made sure of. It was good to be known, he suppose, particularly when one was known for being confident, sharp, and competent. He could learn a thing or ten from Rita, and made quiet efforts to do so without letting on to her that he was taking notes. Rita would've never let it go if she'd gotten wind of it.

"We went to school together," Rafael added, trying to find a safe topic to delve into, one that would make him feel more at ease. " - and we'll be going to law school together this fall." He deliberately omitted the Harvard part, wondering if such an acknowledgement would be seen as a pretentious one here in a Staten Island kitchen next to a keg of Coors.

"A Harvard man," Mike remarked, and it occurred to Rafael that part of knowing the famous Rita Calhoun came with the knowledge that Rita had carried herself as a Harvard woman since the first time she hung the pennant in her closet.

Rafael offered a quick nod, trying to play it casual. "Do you go to school?" He took a long drink of beer, enjoying the way the simple act made him feel better.

"Nah. Army. Infantry," Mike said, and suddenly his collected air of stoicism made so much sense that Rafael kicked himself slightly for not having deduced it himself. "Just so happens these Carisis caught me on leave to make sure I came to one of their famous house parties." There was that name again, and Rafael was thankful that he'd gleaned the information before meeting one of the hosts themselves, assuming he would've felt it was in poor taste to go to a party and not even pretend to be aware of why one was there in the first place.

"Famous house parties?"

Mike's smile was fond, and gestured at the keg. "Highlight of the summers. And Halloween. And New Years." Mike paused, clearly thinking. "And then there was that one Saint Patrick's Day - " He appeared lost in thought for a moment before smiling back at Rafael. "They don't mess around. They might be even a little more well known than Rita Calhoun herself." He offered a good natured wink.

From the living room, Rafael could hear Rita exclaim in delight as someone switched the cassette player over to 'It Was a Good Day' in the distance, and it made him smile to know he had picked the right person to tag along with tonight. His beer was almost empty, and Mike gestured for him to swallow the rest of it down. Mike didn't wait for permission before refilling it.

"I heard this is a birthday party," he said, accepting the cup and taking another drink. Suddenly the thought of Coors didn't horrify him - quite the opposite.

"Yep," Mike said, leaving the side of the keg to rummage in the cabinet, plucking out three shot glasses. One of them appeared well-worn, probably regularly filled with God knows what. The shot glass had a slightly mussed, faded map of a cluster of islands, with a small etching of a castle and elegant, cursive script: _The Orkney Islands_. He smiled, not knowing why the sight of something clearly obscure and well loved made him feel fond of a family he hadn't even met, and redirected his attention back to the trio of shot glasses. "Speaking of which - should probably get the birthday boy himself in here. Just a sec."

Rafael wondered if he ought to excuse himself, though part of him knew deep down that one of the small glasses had been earmarked for him. Mike left the room for a moment, leaving Rafael to try and choke down more beer to steel himself for the idea that hard liquor was in his future. He hoped Rita was better at getting home in one piece after a night of drinking than he was, knowing he'd want to sleep whatever happened off in his own bed.

When Mike returned, he was accompanied by another boy, clearly younger than both Mike and Rafael, and all legs and arms. He was gangly and tall, with light colored hair in slight disarray. His cheeks were reddened, probably by a combination of drink and the summer heat, and he wore jeans, a faded flannel shirt that was so well loved that it was thin enough not to be too hot for August, and a pair of Doc Martens that looked more than adequately broken in.

"Meet Dominick Carisi, Junior," Mike said over one shoulder, with a teasing emphasis on the suffix. He reached high up in the cabinet for a fifth of whiskey that was clearly intended by the owners of the home to be saved for a special occasion. "The birthday boy himself."

The boy rolled his eyes, making eye contact now with Rafael. "Call me Sonny. Everybody does," he said, his tone slightly roughened by hard liquor, though he didn't waver on his feet. "And you are?" The tone was nowhere near accusing, merely curious, so much so that Rafael found himself feeling disarmed by it.

"Rafael. Rafael Barba, if we're doing full on last names," he said, swallowing a large mouthful of beer. Sonny laughed, and the sound of it made him feel warm all over in the way he anticipated the beginnings of a belly full of whiskey might make him feel.

"Very formal," Sonny agreed, attention shifting back to the way Mike poured three shots. "Oh Christ, Mike - you know my dad's gonna kill me for opening that," he said, gesturing with a broad hand at the fifth of whiskey.

Mike appeared to pay him no mind. "That's why I opened it and you didn't," he said, and the argument sounded like one Rafael couldn't bother to contest, even if it was a technicality. He slid one of the full glasses in Rafael's direction down the countertop, and nodded at Sonny to take the one with the islands stamped on the side. Mike picked up his own shot glass. "To Sonny Carisi - today, you are a man," he said with mock solemnity, and Sonny laughed and again rolled his eyes. Mike raised the shot glasses, clicking it against Sonny and Rafael's.

They knocked back the shots, and Rafael could tell he had made a face the way that they did in old movies where a character was laughably unprepared for a mouthful of spirits. Sonny made a sharp, exhaling noise, dramatically licking his lips but showing no other outward signs of distress.

"Tastes expensive," Sonny mused, sitting the shot glass down on the counter. "There's plenty of cheap stuff out in the garage."

"It's your birthday," Rafael protested, clearly egged on by the contents of the shot. For a moment he felt startled by his own move to speak, and he wondered if it would be considered an out of turn thing to say to a stranger in his own home. Sonny regarded him with a curious look, but Mike clapped a heavy hand down on Rafael's shoulder.

"He's right," he said, grasping Rafael's shoulder through his casual polo shirt and flexing his fingers. His strength was palpable, and Rafael wanted to squirm away from the fact that it almost hurt. "You only turn eighteen once, kid." He could tell Sonny wanted to protest the use of _kid_ , but no argument came. "I'm gonna go figure out the music," he said, clearly and abruptly done with the conversation.

He patted Sonny on the shoulder as he exited the kitchen to determine who had decided to switch the tape to a grunge song that had the possibility of careening the party into a downer reminder of mortality and aging rather than a celebration of the best parts of youth.

For a moment, he and Sonny were left simply to stare at each other, until Sonny smiled warmly and refilled his own cup of beer. Someone had scrawled _everyone fucking calls me Sonny_ on the side in wavering permanent marker script, followed by approximately five exclamation points, and it appeared Sonny had established quite a reputation for repeated introduction.

"Mike hates grunge, but he's wrong," Sonny said dismissively, pointing toward the ceiling as if to point out the shift in music when Mike forced one of the other partygoers to play 'Regulators' for what he assumed to be the millionth time of the Carisi party circuit. "Heard you're here with Rita Calhoun," he remarked, licking foam from his lips now in a way that Rafael tried to tacitly ignore.

"I am, although I'm not sure where she's run off to," Rafael confirmed.

Sonny gave him a smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle up. "Rita always remembers that my dad keeps the gin in the garage. Angela buys lime juice just for her."

"I didn't realize just how many Staten Island house parties Rita was going to," Rafael mused, though he immediately kicked himself for the comment, hoping it didn't sound arrogant or dismissive.

The statement didn't appear to have ruffled Sonny's feathers, though, and he gave a small, good natured laugh. "I'm sure she would prefer it that way," he suggested. It distantly occurred to Rafael that it had been a long time since anyone had given him such an earnest, unreserved smile, and for a moment he forgot he was standing in a stranger's kitchen surrounded by kids who'd just finished high school, some of whom couldn't even legally vote yet. "You must be the Harvard guy she brought with her, then."

Outside of tonight, Rafael always felt a hot swelling of pride when someone brought up his bright future in Boston, but standing here on the scuffed laminate of the Carisi kitchen floor, he felt somehow sheepish and humble - not ashamed, certainly, but not wanting to appear boastful.

"Well, yeah, I guess that's me," he said, running one hand through his hair but taking care not to muss it.

Sonny's smile was contagious, all teeth and no pretention. "I'm taking a couple years at community college. Live at home, save some money. Then I was thinking Fordham." In any other setting, Rafael might have scoffed at the idea of Fordham - or really, if he were being darkly honest with himself, anywhere other than Harvard itself - but felt none of that urge here. "Think I might try to be a cop. Maybe a lawyer. Who knows."

Rafael had _known_ since the only thing he knew about a lawyer was that one had finally, blessedly wrenched apart his parents' marriage in court, had seen the way that even the term _lawyer_ let the outside ear know that he or she was someone who commanded respect and exuded competence. The idea of _not knowing_ what to do with one's life made him uneasy.

"You've got time to figure it out," he said, and the words felt funny in his mouth. Sonny regarded him with a momentarily skeptical, bemused look as though he knew instinctively that Rafael was being diplomatic. "What?" he asked, sputtering out an abrupt laugh.

Sonny busied himself with rinsing out he and Rafael's previously used shot glasses, haphazardly drying them out. "You just don't strike me as the kind of guy who feels okay not having a plan, that's all," he answered honestly.

"I guess not," Rafael admitted after a brief pause, and Sonny gave him a knowing smile. Somewhere off in the distance, Rita could be heard squabbling with Mike about switching from cassettes to the radio, and whether or not commercials disrupted the sanctity of music. Rafael wondered when the last time he had felt this comfortable at a party had been - certainly not during undergrad, and certainly not at any of the incoming mixers for Harvard graduate students he'd dragged himself to.

Once he'd finished drying out the glasses, Sonny returned his attention back to the now-opened fifth of whiskey, and poured two more shots before even pausing to ask Rafael if he'd like one. It seemed counterproductive to wash the glasses before pouring another helping, but Rafael felt endeared about the idea of the rituals of legally underage drinking - anything to appear responsible and intentional, he supposed.

"People like Carisi parties because our parents go out to the lake house a lot of weekends," he said casually as he twisted the cap back onto the bottle. "And they like my sisters."

"I'm sure people like you too," Rafael said, hoping to keep the beginnings of a slurred edge out of his voice. His head felt comfortably warm, and his anxiety felt comfortably stowed.

He reached toward the Orkney Islands shot glass, but before he could register the events, Sonny had quickly batted his hand away with an almost affectionate lightness.

"This one's always mine," he informed him, picking the glass up himself. "And it's my birthday." He gestured for Rafael to pick up the other shot glass, a simple one with pastel colored palm tree, flamingo, and surfboard on it. It was cheap and ludicrous, and Rafael imagined it belonged to one of the sisters. "Cheers," he said, raising his glass to tap against Rafael's.

This shot burned much less on the way down this time, and Rafael wondered if he ought to be considered about just how easy it was to throw it back. This time, Sonny didn't so much as grimace or breathe heavily, and Rafael could safely assume that this wasn't his first house party under the nurturing eyes of his older sisters and outside of the stern watch of his parents. Rafael chased his with a foamy mouthful of beer, judgment slipping further through his fingers.

"I don't even know what an Orkney Island is," Rafael admitted.

Sonny nodded, clearly feeling pride at having knowledge someone bound for Harvard did not. "They're a chain of islands off of Scotland, and I'm going to go there someday when I'm rich," he explained. It was clearly a statement he'd made perhaps as many times as _call me Sonny; everybody does_ , common and comfortable in the way it felt to wear a favorite shirt.

"Why?"

For a question that he seemed to have been asked many times before, Sonny had clearly never gotten tired of answering it. He leaned on his forearms against the counter, a slightly lost smile crossing his face as he daydreamed out loud. "Ancient sites, Scottish whiskey. Hiking on the coasts. Seeing castles. All that stuff," he said, his gaze focused on Rafael now. "Frankenstein made a monster there," he added, as though this was a selling point.

Hearing him describe it made Rafael smile.

"Well, in that case, who could resist?" he asked wryly.

Sonny beamed. "I've wanted to go since I was a kid." He paused. "I guess that's weird."

Shaking his head in argument made the whiskey swimming in his veins swim a little faster, and he felt dizzy. Sonny's cheeks seemed even redder, and Rafael wondered if he was flushing himself. It had been a while since he'd had anything harder than wine, and certainly longer still since the last time he'd taken a shot, and certainly _even_ longer than that since he'd taken two shots. Sonny appeared steadier on his feet, probably borne out of catching onto the logistics of a house party earlier on in life as mentored by his sisters.

"That's not weird," Rafael argued. "It's unique, sure, but I like unique people."

If it sounded trite, Sonny seemed to have no objections still. "Me too," he said, with brightness in his voice.

Rafael also realized it had been long - too long, really - since he'd felt an attraction other than a fleeting flutter when looking at another person, most typically a man. Over the course of his undergraduate years, he'd kissed a guy or two, chastely after a date, or filthy and openmouthed under the covers of his dorm room sheets or, most notably, in a gay club Rita had dragged him to merely in hopes of dancing the night before graduation.

Yes, it felt like it had been far too long indeed.

"I think I'll have one more beer," Sonny said with a borderline-glazed smile.

"You're going to make yourself sick," Rafael blurted in protest before it occurred to him that Sonny perhaps had even more experience in this area than he did. He paused to consider. "I mean - though it does sound like you've had some practice. With your sisters, I mean."

"You don't have to have one, if you don't want to," Sonny said over his shoulder.

Relief washed over him, even as Sonny pumped out a last cup of beer for himself. "I think I ought to stop," he admitted. "I'm kind of a lightweight."

He could hear Sonny chuckle, regarding Rafael with an inexplicably fond look for someone he'd just met. "It just takes some practice." He paused, clearly wondering if there might be judgment on the horizon for him. "My dad gave me my first beer when I was fifteen and told me he knew I was going to drink and he rather I'd do it at home where I wasn't out running around. He wanted me to keep an eye on my sisters, too, although most of the guys they were hanging out with were bigger than me." His eyes danced brightly. "Always been a skinny kid."

"You look good," Rafael said abruptly, surprising himself when he realized in horror what he'd said. "I'm sorry, I - " Mortification washed over him with a vengeance.

"Don't be sorry," Sonny said, waving an idle hand to cut him off. "You look good too." Rafael worried he might be reading too much into the statement, and watched Sonny rinse out the shot glasses again. He dried them and placed them back in the cabinet, arranging them so the Orkney Islands shot glass proudly pointed outward to face into the kitchen. "I mean, I hope that doesn't sound bad." He trailed off into silence, and stared at Rafael.

If he'd thought Rita had a bewildering sense of confidence all these years, Sonny seemed to be following along behind as an underdog. It was surprising to find an freshly eighteen year old unwavering here before him.

"Sorry, I'm drunk," Sonny admitted, leaning against the counter with a slight, dewy sheen of sweat on his forehead borne of Dominick Carisi Senior's gruff warning, _take whatever you want but don't even think of touching that thermostat, Angie_ over his shoulder to Sonny's sister before departing for the lake house. "Like, not so much that - "

Before he could finish his sentence, Sonny surged forward and kissed Rafael hard on the mouth, wet and vaguely sloppy but by no means unwelcome. Rafael didn't even have enough time to close his eyes, and merely blinked in surprise.

When Sonny leaned away, mortification was splashed all over his face, though he didn't retreat far.

"Shit, I'm sorry," he apologized again, clearly worried about how Rafael might react. "I didn't mean to - that wasn't cool, I - "

It was Rafael's turn to abruptly cut Sonny off midsentence, and he held up his hand and shook his head rapidly. "No, no," he insisted discouragingly, only wanting back the sensation of Sonny's mouth against his own. "That was _very_ cool." There was no room for dishonesty here with alcohol in his veins and surrounded by the cozily wallpapered space of the Carisi kitchen. "Very, very cool," he added faintly.

Sonny appeared to be battling inwardly with himself before responding. "Only Angela knows that I - " He paused with trepidation clearly churning in his gut. It was the first time Rafael had seen him without an easy air of confidence since they'd met over the keg. " - that I like guys," he said finally, cheeks thoroughly pinked from more than just alcohol.

"Maybe we should go somewhere else?" Rafael asked, surprising himself with his own boldness.

Nodding, Sonny smiled, still shy but with excitement spread across his face. "Yeah, yeah. Upstairs?"

Rafael felt a hot surge of nerves winding and coiling with arousal, even if he and Sonny did little more than continue their conversation, though he hoped for more. It was unbearably hot in the kitchen, and the noise of the party suddenly seemed very far away. He could hear Soft Cell playing from a rickety cassette in the living room, and imagined Rita was probably on a tangent about how 'Tainted Love' out to have been immediately inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame as an instant classic upon its release.

When he had nodded, Sonny turned on one booted heel and retreated toward the staircase just off the kitchen. Just as expected, Rita had the rest of the party enraptured with a monologue, and no one seemed to notice Sonny's absence despite the entire event being held in his honor. Upstairs, he opened the second door on the right and gestured animatedly for Rafael to follow him before closing the door behind him. He turned on a floor lamp, painting the room in a muted glow.

It appeared to be the average room of a young man, slightly messy and certainly lived in with a sparse stack of yearbooks and textbooks on the desk against one wall. A map of the same Scottish islands was tacked on the wall above the desk, perhaps a motivation to study to make enough money to go there. One corner had been oddly tacked and was curling over, and Rafael fought the urge to readjust it.

"They were just going to throw it away at the library," Sonny said, noticing Rafael's eyes fixated on the map. There was a note of mournfulness in his voice, and it made something affectionate swell in Rafael's chest to imagine Sonny rescuing lost and unwanted things. "I thought it was destiny or something." He watched Sonny smooth the fronts of his jeans, and he could imagine Sonny's hands were sweating.

Rafael stepped closer, now eager to be the one to take initiative since they had moved out of the eyesight of the rest of the partygoers.

"Is this all right?" he asked, laying one gentle hand on Sonny's hip as though worried he might frighten him off. He could see Sonny lick his lips, slightly chapped, and he provided no answer other than to lean forward and brush his mouth against Rafael's. Before in the kitchen the kiss seemed unpracticed and poorly conceived in technique - though eager - but here in the comforting space of the bedroom, Sonny seemed much more at ease.

"Yeah," he whispered against Rafael's lips before kissing him harder and with more intent. Rafael curled his hand around Sonny's hip, pulling him in closer and scarcely fighting the urge to grind against him already. His lips parted, allowing Sonny's tongue to find its way into his mouth. Sonny sighed as though in delight.

They had not moved from barely into the doorway, though their grasps on one another had tightened with a slowly building intensity. Sonny clutched at Rafael and tentatively slid two fingertips beneath the bottom hem of Rafael's white polo shirt - one that had previously made him feel stuffy, snobby, and out of place in the Staten Island house. He suddenly wanted nothing more but to strip it off and never see it again.

Sonny removed his hand from Rafael's waist to take Rafael's in his own, slowly pulling him over to the full size bed. The sheets were rumpled, clearly made in a haste without care for appearance over functionality, and he stretched out on his back. He pulled Rafael in by the back of his head, gently carding his fingers through the dark locks of hair there. He appeared to be struggling to kick off his boots at the same time, but to no avail.

"Let me," Rafael offered. Sonny appeared reluctant to break away from the kiss, though he nodded fervently as he read into the underlying implication of beginning to remove even the most innocuous pieces of clothing. Rafael lowered himself, picking at the bootlaces with fingers that only shook a little. A delicious shiver ran through Sonny's body, and it gave Rafael a quiet thrill to know he was the cause of it.

"You're so hot," Sonny blurted, control rapidly slipping. Once the laces were loose enough, he kicked the boots off. They landed with such a clatter that for a moment Rafael winced to worry that the thud could be heard through the floor and into the living room ceiling, though no disturbance came. "If you don't want to, we don't have to - "

"I want to," Rafael interjected, stretching out on his side and pulling Sonny closer by his belt loops. He allowed his hands to meander downward as they kissed, lightly grasping at Sonny's ass through the faded jeans. "I really, _really_ want to," he added, kneading harder when he could hear the way Sonny moaned against him. He could feel Sonny grinding closer, noticeably hard in his jeans. "Have you ever done this before?"

Sonny's face flushed as he chased Rafael's lips to kiss him again. "No, but - I hope that doesn't bother you or anything," he said meekly, clearly not wanting to end the moment with his inexperience.

Upon hearing the admission, Rafael wondered what it might say about him that the idea of being the first one allowed in Sonny's bed like this made him even harder than he himself already was.

"Fuck," Rafael huffed, leaning in to kiss down Sonny's neck with a nip ending just before the collar of his shirt. His hands wandered around Sonny's front, thumbing at the flat copper button of his jeans. "Is this okay?" he asked, though the way that Sonny's hips strained forward ought to have been answer enough. "Do you mind if I touch you?"

Sonny let out a laugh that bordered on frantic. "Do I _mind_?" he asked in something close to disbelief. Rafael mirrored his laugh, and took it as permission to undo the button. "Oh, God," Sonny breathed out, already practically vibrating off the bed with need. He let his own hand roam down Rafael's chest to rub over his abdomen underneath his shirt. Sonny's hand was so hot against his skin that it briefly seemed almost unbearable in the summer heat. His hand wandered further up and slid a slow, lazy circle around the pebbling peak of Rafael's nipple. He hissed in pleasure, taking no further pause to slide one hand into Sonny's jeans and briefs to wrap around him.

"Fuck," Rafael repeated, hand now curled around the length of him, and he swore he could feel Sonny throbbing in his hand. "Maybe _you're_ the one who's hot," he teased, and Sonny laughed again. He began to stroke slowly, though his range of motion was limited by the confines of Sonny's layers of pants. "Pull these down," he suggested, helping Sonny shimmy his hips so that his jeans could bunch further down around his knees.

"Yours too," Sonny pleaded, and now he helped Rafael undo the button on his pants to slide them down. Rafael kicked his tennis shoes off and to the side of the bed, now uncaring for any noise. He writhed in a surprised delight as Sonny moved out of his grasp with a surprising grace, only to move to strip his pants off entirely and straddle Rafael's hips. " - want you." Rafael bobbed his head, pushing Sonny further downward so their cocks could rub together.

"I like knowing I'm the first one to do this to you," Rafael admitted, pulling Sonny down for a kiss. Sonny made a soft noise of agreement, taking both of their cocks in one hand and pumping experimentally. "You feel so good." He could taste the hot undercurrent of whiskey on Sonny's tongue, and it only made the sensation more consuming.

"You too," Sonny agreed. "Like, so fucking good," he added, voice slurring deliriously at the edges with pleasure. Rafael could feel the head of Sonny's cock slick with precome against his own, and the quick feeling of Sonny's strokes only made him want to grab Sonny's ass more insistently. "Shit, _shit_ ," he said helplessly. Rafael slipped his own hand underneath Sonny's thin flannel shirt, pinching at his nipple and savoring the way Sonny cried out without regard to the possibility of being found out if one of the other partygoers had staggered drunkenly upstairs to use the bathroom next door. "I'm close," he admitted in embarrassment.

To Sonny's luck, Rafael was not far behind, having not been touched in longer than he cared to admit. "Me too," he said in what he hoped was encouragement. "That feels so fucking good," he gasped, feeling hot all over to hear the filth coming from his mouth, wrenched out of him by the intoxicating feel of Sonny's skin and the way he writhed in his lap. Sonny was shaking all over despite the heat.

"I want to make you come," Sonny said breathlessly, his strokes quickening even further.

"You're going to," Rafael panted, and it was his turn to laugh. He'd never laughed so much during anything remotely sexual, and regretted having apparently waited so long to start. His hips surged upward into Sonny's grip, tweaking at Sonny's nipple again. He suddenly wondered why he'd thought Sonny's shirt was thin enough not to be too hot for the summer, as the heat emanating off of Sonny's skin was deliciously smothering beneath the shirt.

Sonny fisted his free hand in the front of Rafael's shirt, rucking it up to expose his belly. He thrust harder against Rafael, drawing even more pleasure out due to the friction of their skin together. It was enough to push Sonny over the edge, making him shudder and cry out as he spilled his come all over Rafael's stomach, down the hard lengths of their cocks, and his own fist. He gasped desperately for breath, caught off guard by the force of his orgasm and clearly enjoying the aftershocks.

"Your turn, your turn," he panted, continuing his strokes with his come adding a new slickness that had Rafael groaning, needy and arching up to come with a wordless cry. "Oh God," Sonny murmured, happy to watch Rafael fall apart underneath him. He slumped forward, somehow uncaring about the mess.

They laid in silence for a few moments, the only sound being the bass thrum of the music from the living room and the excitable chatter of the rest of the party.

"That was so good," Sonny mumbled, rendered mostly speechless for the time being in a way that Rafael imagined was atypical. " _So_ good," he repeated.

"Not bad for a first attempt," Rafael agreed, pulling Sonny in for a slow, warm kiss to convey he was teasing. Sonny relaxed into the kiss for a moment, smiling fondly against his mouth.

"Glad I didn't disappoint you too much," he said, playing for coolness but obviously pleased at a job well done. He reached for a box of tissues next to his bed, blushing a little knowing Rafael could probably guess at their intended purpose at being there. He clumsily mopped at the now-cooling come at their laps, humming and swaying a little in the renewed force of their drunkenness. "We should go back. People probably wonder where we are."

"People probably wonder where _you_ are," Rafael corrected, thumbing at the indentation of Sonny's dimpled smile. Sonny tangled their fingers together for a minute, kissing a few knuckles of Rafael's hand with an earnestness that felt so different than any other drunken hookup Rafael had indulged in. Sonny rolled off of his body, pulling his pants back up and arranging himself as best as possible as he put his Doc Martens back on.

Rafael dressed also, knowing he looked miles more rumpled than he had when he arrived at the party and hoping no one would pick up on it or attribute it to anything more than a few too many mouthfuls of whiskey. He supposed he ought to blame Mike for all of this, but felt more apt to thank him for it.

Sonny's back was turned, hunched over the desk and scribbling on a small piece of paper. When he'd finished, he gave Rafael a sheepish smile before pressing the paper into his hand.

"I guess I just thought - " His blush had returned. " - I just really like you and I know you're going away, but maybe if you're not too busy, you could write to me. I don't know." His handwriting was surprisingly legible, and Rafael blinked down at the paper. _From the desk of Dominick Carisi, Jr._ was printed neatly across the top of the page, and he imagined it had been a graduation gift or something from an overly practical relative. He smiled up at Sonny.

"Sure," he said casually, hoping he meant it. He kissed the hot apple of Sonny's cheek, turning to leave the room.

When they'd returned to the living room, no one remarked on their absence other than Angela throwing her arms around Sonny's neck and pulling him in for a clumsy hug, clearly drunk and elated to see _my kid brother_ , _guys_!, as though anyone might have forgotten the occasion for the party.

Rita regarded him with an arched eyebrow, clearly feeling well from the effects of her drinks, but blessedly tactful for perhaps the first time in her life. She smiled knowingly at him, as though she could see his quiet gladness thrumming beneath his skin.

"Weren't you hoping Olivia would show up?" Mike was asking her, clearly unaware that Rita's attention was focused now on the wrinkled front of Rafael's shirt and the way that his hair had come unarranged. "Aren't you _always_ hoping Olivia would show up?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Shut up, Michael," she countered, waving him off with a dismissive hand that Rafael knew meant that he had been not far off from the truth. She rose to her feet from the floral couch to approach Rafael with a smile. "Having a good time? Having _quite_ a good time?" Her voice was coy, and he both hated and loved her in that moment.

"It's all right," he said, trying for flatness but knowing just how good of a time might be written across his face.

"We ought to go," Rita said, louder now so that others could hear, with regret creeping into her voice. "Don't want to miss the last train home."

"No," Casey slurred from the couch where she had been near dozing on Alex's shoulder, and clearly speaking for others at the party who had never known Rita Calhoun to overstay her welcome. If nothing else, they missed her when she left. A small, guilty part of Rafael wondered if Sonny regretted him leaving. "You're leaving and we'll _never_ see you again." An even smaller, guiltier part of Rafael wondered if Sonny felt the same way, and he tried to quickly stuff it away inside of himself so that it wouldn't gnaw at him.

"And not come home for the annual Halloween party?" Rita asked with mock offense. "I would hope you know me better than that, Ms. Novak." The response seemed to settle Casey, and she returned to where she had leaned against Alex in comfort. She was heading for the door now, leaving Rafael with no choice but to follow. She gave Angela a hug and wished Sonny a polite _happy birthday_ , _thanks for having us, as always_ before stepping out on the front porch.

The small slip of paper with the Carisi family address suddenly felt heavy in his pocket, and he gave Sonny a smile as he headed for the door as well. He placed a hand on Sonny's shoulder and squeezed through the flannel that he now had come to love. It was familiar enough to look borne out of the camaraderie shared by two recent acquaintances and few too many drinks. "Happy birthday, Sonny," he said, bright but hoping for a casual air. "It was great to meet you."

Sonny smiled brightly, though part of him was obviously not far from doubling down and asking him to ignore the last train and stay. "It was great to meet you too. Hope you can come back with Rita sometime."

"Maybe Halloween," Rafael agreed, hand still on Sonny's shoulder. "I'll look forward to it."

" _Rafi_ ," Rita said insistently from the front porch, clearly wilting from the humidity.

"Me too," Sonny said with _that fucking smile_. "Remember what I told you," he added earnestly, clearly referring to the request to write.

"Sure," Rafael repeated, pulling his hand away and leaving in regret.

In the cab ride back to the train station, Rita looked at him with a sense of bewildered suspicion.

"What?" he blurted, guilty conscience peeking out of him.

She smiled at him before directing her eyes back down to the nail she'd repaired before, clearly not satisfied with the job and mentally making a note to schedule a manicure to leave such a thing to the professionals. "Quite a celebration for an eighteenth birthday," she remarked.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said, feeling a quiet sense of pride and delight. "Now, tell me about this Olivia you're always hoping will show up."

-

To say that the adjustment to Harvard had been a whirlwind would be something of an understatement. The classes were arduous, certainly, but the pressures of the social scene also posed a challenge that sometimes felt insurmountable. Rafael had always been an introvert, and although his confidence seemed to have skyrocketed the more and more competent he proved himself to be in the classroom and the courtroom, part of him still shirked the idea of meeting people. At Harvard, there were always people to meet, and seemingly all of them with influence.

The idea of a modest house party suddenly felt like the best place in the world, and he regretted taking it for granted.

Still, the weeks trickled by until six of them were crossed off of his calendar, and before he knew it, the idea of that night back in August seemed a fond relic of a time gone past.

In early October, Rafael found himself in the library trying to find a thick, musty volume on amendments to case law that a professor had sent him to track down for what felt like a wild goose chase. He was feeling resentful at the poor layout of the library when he realized he had wandered into the geography section.

He envied people who got to use this section of the library because of the view of campus through the window. Law students got shut in the basement. It was nice to see the orange leaves of campus in fall. He had never seen this many fall leaves back in New York, and it made him a little less homesick. He stood by the window for a few minutes, watching a small circle of fine arts majors playing hackey sack on the lawn, wishing for a moment that he had the inclination to join them instead of struggling to find books on a fine autumn afternoon.

Rafael made a resigned noise and turned away from the window. A round table sat in the middle of the section, littered with pamphlets and brochures for touristy locations, and it seemed out of place for a stuffy scholarly hall with the smell of must rolling off of everything. He looked curiously through the pile of pamphlets - _see the Parthenon, raft the Amazon_ \- and made a mental note to travel somewhere when he could put all of the rigors of academia behind himself with success to show for it.

At the bottom of the pile was a glossy postcard with a somehow familiar chain of islands drawn out on it in an antiquated style that he'd seen before. He smiled down at the Orkney Islands. He flipped the postcard over. It was blank. Impulsively, he tucked it into his leather messenger bag, a gift from his _abuelita_ before he'd left for school, as it was important to her to let him look the part even if he felt like a fish out of water.

Once Rafael had located the book and returned it to his professor - to little thanks, he noted in annoyance - he returned to his small, solitary dorm room. He hoped to move off of campus next semester, finances permitting, feeling silly getting dressed in a suit down the hall from a dining hall milling with more than a few underclassmen.

He opened his bag, rummaging inside to find the Orkney Islands postcard he may or may not have stolen from someone who'd forgotten it in the library. Next, he dug to the bottom of a drawer that was gradually filling with office supplies he'd casually started bringing home from the graduate assistant's office when no one was looking. At the bottom of the drawer was a crumpled piece of paper.

_From the desk of Dominick Carisi, Junior._

He scrawled the address on the right side of the postcard and wrote out what he hoped was a casual message even after he had carefully considered the words.

_Happened upon this at the library and thought of you. Hope all is well._ He added his own return address in neat script so that Sonny could read it to hopefully send a response, and further hoped that not too much time had lapsed since he had decided to write. Rafael affixed the stamp and felt a brief beating of nervousness as he anticipated dropping it in the mailbox.

Perhaps he would get a response. Perhaps he would ask Rita if he could tag along to the Halloween party. Undoubtedly he would be forced to wear a costume. Undoubtedly he would object and ask if he could simply go dressed as _Harvard Graduate Student_ for his costume. Undoubtedly, he would lose the argument.

Perhaps the night would be wonderful. He allowed himself to hope.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I was thrilled to write for mforpaul for the exchange - you know how much I love your writing and I'm glad to return the favor. This was the most fun thing I've written in a while, so I hope you enjoy!
> 
> This story is also my love letter to Rita Calhoun - may we all live as fabulously as her. 
> 
> Since I decided to set this in the 90s, as I had a rough guess of the timeline based on the show, I also could not resist the idea of Mike Dodds and his love affair with 90s hip hop; the title of this story is shamelessly taken from his favorite song, 'Regulators' by Warren G. 
> 
> I also know basically nothing about the Orkney Islands, so I hope my research did your idea to somehow include the antique map of them some type of justice. 
> 
> Again, thanks everyone for reading, and hope your holiday season contained some type of get together as exciting as a Carisi siblings house party!


End file.
